


truly, madly, deeply

by scarletwidxw



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, F/F, Lesbian Characters, Mentioned Pietro Maximoff, Multi, Stucky - Freeform, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Wanda is a bottom, Wandanat, alternative universe, bucky is wanda's best friend, bucky's mom is everyone's mom, definitely more tags to be added, erik is wanda's father, hippie!natasha romanoff, i'll just tell you now, natasha is a stylish hippie, pietro is dead, this is sort of a firefly lane au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletwidxw/pseuds/scarletwidxw
Summary: "her attention is solely fixed on the poetry flowing from her pen, when the sound of loud, indie music begins to filter into her awareness, somewhere down the street. she doesn’t pay it much mind until it starts getting closer, louder, and then she catches sight of the bright, colourful van trundling down the road.it’s deep sky blue and sunshine yellow, rusty, with a peace symbol painted on the bonnet and tie dye sheets and dream catchers strung up over the windows. it looks old and vintage in a way that is almost too unbelievably cool to fit in here."orsmall town au where wanda is a hopeless romantic, and natasha is the avant-garde bohemian who swoops in and steals her heart.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Wanda Maximoff, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	truly, madly, deeply

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is not my first wandanat fic but it's the first one that i'm posting :) 
> 
> i was watching firefly lane and got so inspired to write something based off of their little town. i also love the idea of hippie!nat.

it’s early evening when wanda notices the van pulling in across the street. 

the light outside is starting to turn golden as the sun sets over the trees, and she’s out in the paddocks with bucky’s horses, sitting curled up on the fence and scribbling frantic words in her diary. this is her favourite time to be out here, when the sun isn’t too high in the sky that it’s boiling, but not too low that the evening chill gives her goosebumps. 

her attention is solely fixed on the poetry flowing from her pen, when the sound of loud, indie music begins to filter into her awareness, somewhere down the street. she doesn’t pay it much mind until it starts getting closer, louder, and then she catches sight of the bright, colourful van trundling down the road. 

it’s deep sky blue and sunshine yellow, rusty, with a peace symbol painted on the bonnet and tie dye sheets and dream catchers strung up over the windows. it looks old and vintage in a way that is almost too unbelievably cool to fit in here. 

it parks up in the driveway of the empty house across from hers, the music still blasting, and she can see mrs barnes next door pulling aside the curtain, peering out of her window. _she’s always been nosy, that woman, doesn’t know when to mind her own business_ — that’s what wanda’s father always says. 

wanda isn’t too sure about that. she likes mrs barnes. likes that whenever she goes round to the house, the woman almost always seems to have cookies straight out the oven and or some other baked good making the whole place smell homely, likes that she gives big warm hugs, words of advice and wistful tips of her head. she likes that mrs barnes doesn’t seem to care if bucky likes boys, and doesn’t mind that steve is always round and that they’re always sneaking off together. or that she barely protested when becca dyed her hair pink and pierced her nose, last summer.

wanda knows her parents would not allow that— if they looked at her long enough to notice, that is. 

the van doors slide open, and a young woman (she can’t be more than about thirty, wanda thinks) hops out, whooping out as she does and throwing her arms into the air. “get out here, natty! look at this place!”

wanda slips off the fence, padding across the field to get closer, and she watches as someone else gets out the van. 

it doesn’t take long for her breath to get knocked from her lungs. 

the girl looks around wanda’s age, with bold red hair that’s gathered back into a low messy bun and tucked beneath a black bandana, bright eyes, and a face that _looks_ like it should be smiling but is instead pulled into a pinched, sad-looking expression. she’s wearing a pair of high rise denim shorts and a loose checked shirt that’s half tucked into the thick black belt around her waist. over her shoulder is slung a canvas bag that reads “ _love not war”_ in bright rainbow font, and wanda can’t help but marvel at how she looks like she’s just stepped out of the seventies. 

she’s _beautiful_. but she looks so sad. 

the woman is already bounding off towards the house, shouting various things and radiating an ecstatic energy like nothing wanda has ever seen before. she has to be high, or something, because wanda decides that no one can be that naturally _joyful_. 

the red-haired girl who is apparently this “natty”, slams open the back of the van to grab a box under each arm, and as she does so, her eyes seem to catch on wanda. 

if she were more confident, wanda may hop over the fence and jog across the road, introduce herself as _the friendly neighbour_ and ask if she needs any help with moving boxes. that’s a man-sized ‘if’, though, and instead wanda finds her cheeks reddening but she can’t look away. 

the girl stares back for a few long moments, before her full lips stretch into a lazy smirk and she raises her hand into a half wave. 

it feels like a staggering relief to see her expression shift away from its prior misery, enough so that it brings a bright smile to wanda’s own face. she doesn’t have time to wave back, though, because the girl is turning around to walk up the driveway towards the house and wanda misses her face already. 

when she returns to her perch on the fence after a minute of staring at the closed door, wanda finds that this time, the ink that spills from her pen speaks of girls with bright red hair, soft smirks and deep, sad souls. 

***

“did you see? someone moved into the hills’ house across the street.”

it’s silent downstairs aside from the periodic rustle of the newspaper pages turning, and the low melody of the radio spilling out from the kitchen. wanda pauses in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining area as she speaks. she considers sitting down at the table, but quickly decides against it, instead grabbing a slice of toast from the plate in the centre. 

mornings when her mother isn’t here are awkward. she and erik have never had much to talk about. 

“oh?” erik says, looking over the top of his newspaper long enough to meet her eyes. “what kind of people?”

she attempts to deduce what exactly he means by that question. what ‘ _kind_ ’ of people? what sort of information is he asking for? 

in the end, she just says, “a mother and daughter. they seemed kind of hipster. they have a really cool van,” she says, biting into her slice of toast and omitting the part about the daughter being the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her life. “the daughter looks around my age.”

“that’s nice,” he says, and just like that he’s no longer listening, his attention back on the paper. she grimaces and finishes her toast off in a couple of bites. 

she takes a moment to check her hair in her reflection on the fridge door. it’s a little messy, and she runs her hand through it, before throwing it up into a ponytail with the purple scrunchie on her wrist. 

“see you later, dad,” she says, grabbing her backpack off the kitchen counter and swinging it over her shoulder as she jogs out the door and down the steps. the bus won’t come for another thirty minutes, but she’d rather go and annoy bucky by waking him up early than wait in the land-of-the-silent. 

she draws in a heavy breath as she steps off the bottom step of her back porch and decides that today is going to be a good day. 

she can feel it. 

that puts a little skip in her step as she crosses the lawn towards bucky’s, stopping momentarily to pet blue when he pads over to the fence to greet her as she passes. “g’morning boy,” she murmurs, grinning a little to herself. 

slipping up the back steps to bucky’s house and into his kitchen is near habit by now. she stills knocks twice, out of politeness, although mrs barnes has assured her more than once that wanda is beyond welcome there whenever she wants. 

the kitchen is almost identical to her own, except it’s painted pink instead of blue, and the counters are much more cluttered with _things_. there are jars of dried herbs, little pots of fresh growing plants, displays of utensils, little chalkboard signs about “home being where the heart is”, photos of bucky and his sister… almost identical, but it feels completely different. everything in the barnes’ house feels different. 

“morning, wanda,” mrs barnes smiles warmly, looking up from the little tv mounted on the wall. she’s sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in hands that’s still steaming, and a pair of knitting needles set aside in front of her. bucky’s father is in the living room (she can’t see him, but she knows the morning routine by now) and his sister is straightening her hair in the upstairs bathroom. “james is still asleep.”

“i thought so,” wanda says, chuckling lightly as she pushes the backdoor closed behind her. “did you see some people moved into the hills’ old place?” she asks, even though she knows of _course_ winnifred barnes has heard about someone moving into _their_ street. 

“i did. or rather i _heard_ it all. they seem like interesting people,” she says into a nod. coming from anyone else, wanda might interpret it as a slight, but she knows it’s not like that, coming from mrs barnes. she rarely has a bad word to say about anyone. “the daughter looks about yours and james’ age. that should be nice, to have another youngster around.”

“yeah,” wanda says, lips curling upwards. “she looked nice. i mean, she looked like she's… she looks like she’d be nice. a nice person,” she mutters out, stumbling over her words until her cheeks warm. 

mrs barnes watches her, lips curling upwards into a smile that wanda can’t quite read. “i was thinking of sending becca over with a pie later,” she says, “you should go too. introduce yourself.”

wanda shrugs a little, cheeks going a little red at the mere recollection of the beautiful girl from the night before. she’s not sure that she would be able to hold a conversation with her without her legs turning to jelly. 

mrs barnes doesn’t say anything, but her smile shifts into something that is almost _knowing_ , and it makes wanda’s insides start to feel mushy with anxiety so she says, “i’m gonna go wake bucky up now if that’s okay.”

“of course, dear.”

wanda slips out of the room and up the stairs, footsteps light because she wants to wake bucky up by jumping on him, not by him hearing her coming upstairs. 

turns out it’s pretty anticlimactic because he wakes up as soon as she opens the door and throws a pillow at her with a groan. 

“not even eight yet, wand. fuck off,” he murmurs, throwing his arm over his face dramatically as if the whole room has suddenly been flooded with light rather than just her opening the door. 

“nope. time to get up,” she says, flopping down on the bottom of his bed and laughing when he half-heartedly tries to kick her off. 

“i hate you in the mornings,” he grumbles, but he sits up after a little while, blindly fumbling for his phone until he finds it and a small smile drags his downward turned lips up. 

it makes her smile too, because she knows the only person who can make bucky smile like that is steve. “you never hate me,” she says, and pokes his leg, “what’s stevie saying that’s makin’ you grin like that?”

bucky looks up at her, his duchenne smile widening. she can read him like an open book. “just good morning,” he says as he sets his phone back down and stumbles out of bed, but she knows it’s a lie. 

“people moved in across the street,” wanda finds herself saying, for the third time this morning, fishing her own phone from her pocket but not really surprised when there’s nothing there. bucky and steve are about her only friends. not that she minds — third wheeling doesn’t suck as much as everyone makes out that it does, not when she gets to see how happy they make each other all the time. except when they want to have sex, and then her only friends are bucky’s horses. but that’s not too bad, either. 

“mhm, the girl’s real pretty,” bucky’s dismembered voice sounds from somewhere round the other side of the closet. she can _hear_ his smirk, and if he was in reach she’d hit him with a pillow. 

“you think?” she asks, instead of letting him get a rise from her. “didn’t think she’d really be your type.”

bucky’s head pops round the dresser in time to say, “oh she’s not, but my best friend would definitely fuck her.”

wanda makes a noise of protest and throws one of the cushions straight at bucky. it misses, and he laughs, appearing fully dressed a second later to throw it back at her. 

“you’re an asshole,” she murmurs, and looks down at her phone to hide how her cheeks are burning. 

“am not.” he’s close enough to nudge her then, looking down at her phone in her hands. “heard from your mom?” 

wanda’s chest clenches at the question and she swallows as she shakes her head. “uhm, no,” she says, attempting nonchalance with her tone. but bucky knows her just as well as she knows him — she can’t hide from him that easily. “it’s fine.”

it happens a lot, at this time of year; her mother will disappear - sometimes for a few weeks, sometimes a few days. 

wanda gets it. 

it’s the anniversary of pietro’s death. it’s _hard_. it hurts to think about it any time of year, but especially around this time. and her mom? she was strong when he died. really strong. 

wanda was broken, is _still_ broken, and her mom didn’t break. she stayed strong, for them all. so when it comes to this time of year, wanda thinks she just needs a little while to herself. a little while where she can grieve her son and know that no one is depending on her to be strong for them. 

that doesn’t make her worry any less, though. doesn’t ease the anxiety about her being gone because after losing pietro?— after losing the other half of her _soul_ — wanda can’t rely on the fact that she won’t lose anyone else. 

“hey. she’s fine, wanda,” bucky says, squeezing her shoulder firmly and drawing wanda’s gaze up to him. “she never calls or texts, right? that’s not unusual.”

“yeah, no… it’s fine. of course she’s fine,” wanda forces a smile, that gradually becomes a little less forced when bucky pulls her into a half hug. “i’m fine.”

“i know you are. you’re the strongest person i know,” he tells her, “but let’s go, okay? because even _you’re_ not strong enough to withstand the wrath of mr anderson if we’re late one more time this semester.”

wanda chuckles, murmuring something about that man being the devil incarnate and following bucky downstairs. 

mrs barnes makes them all sit and have a bowl of cereal before she lets them leave. 

they walk becca to the middle school bus stop, like usual, and they just barely get to their bus on time. the driver clicks his tongue disapprovingly and tuts at them, but bucky flashes his charming school-boy grin as he hops on up that gets the edge of his glare to soften at least a little. 

they slink to the back, like usual, where steve is sitting with his bag on one of the chairs and feet up on the other. they always sit at the back so it’s not like anyone would try to take their seats, but he always saves them just in case. 

as wanda falls into the window seat, hugging her backpack to her chest, she notices the front door of the house over the road opening. she cranes her neck a little, and watches as the new girl strolls out the door with a paint brush and a bucket of paint in hand. she’s wearing another bandana today, a blue one this time, and a pair of short sleeved overalls with the legs rolled up to her knees. she’s surveying the front of the house with intention and wanda wonders what she’s going to paint. 

“the neighbourhood watch won’t like that,” steve says, following her line of sight and peering over her shoulder. “already kicking up a fuss about the truck being parked there. kinda bold, don’t you think?” 

wanda rolls her eyes, of course the conservative old crones are opposed to anything that brings a little excitement to the area. “they just don’t like change. bold isn’t a bad thing,” she says, pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth. “i think it’s cool.” 

“careful stevie. insult her girlfriend and she might hit you.”

wanda proceeds to glare in bucky’s direction, snapping something about him being _insufferable_ , but she does spare a final glance in the direction of their new neighbour, and she finds the girl looking right at her. 

she’s smiling ( _smirking_ , again, that casual upward twitch of her lips) right at wanda, and there’s a pull of _something_ in her chest as she smiles back before her view is quickly obscured by the bus pulling away.

bucky nudges her hard and she hits him in return. can’t get that smirk out her head all the way to school. 

***

_knock knock._

wanda takes a step back on the porch, clutching the still-warm dish tightly in her hands as she inspects the door in front of her. since this morning it’s been painted with all the colours of the rainbow, in a big swirl pattern coming to a point in the middle. it’s very bold, and wanda almost smiles at the thought of what the neighbourhood watch will think of _this_. 

it takes her less than a few moments to decide that she likes it very much. 

mrs barnes had told wanda that both becca and bucky had said they were too busy to bring round her pie, although wanda knows that’s probably not true because bucky would do pretty much anything his mom asked him to. she thinks mrs barnes just wanted her to bring it over herself, and that fact makes her feel both happy and incredibly nervous at the same time. 

the door opens with a ferocity that takes wanda by surprise, and as soon as it does she’s struck by the sound of loud music playing. fleetwood mac. _nice_. 

“hello stranger,” says the woman standing at the door, and wanda is momentarily disappointed that it’s not mystery girl with her bright green eyes and mesmerising smirk.

she quickly shakes that off though, fixing the woman with a smile and extending the dish towards her. “hi. i’m wanda. i live at number twelve,” she says, glancing back toward her house by way of explanation. it looks very dark in comparison to the rest of the houses in the street. the only light that’s on is the upstairs bathroom. “mrs barnes made this pie for you. she lives right there,” wanda points back at bucky’s house with all the bright homely lights on, curtains drawn except for where you can see into becca’s bedroom upstairs. 

“pie? oh _yum_ ,” the woman gasps, snatching up the dish from wanda’s hands with fervour and bringing it up to her face to take a deep inhale, before releasing a moan. she turns her head back into the house, and, “natty get down here! this nice girl brought us a pie!” 

wanda isn’t ready for the volume of the shout and momentarily flinches. she shifts a little on her feet and squints past the woman in the doorway. there don’t seem to be too many boxes inside, the hall is pretty empty and she figures their van couldn’t carry a lot. maybe the movers haven’t brought their things yet. 

“smells _divine_ ,” the woman turns back to smile at her, and then gasps so melodramatically that wanda almost jumps again. “excuse my manners, i forgot to introduce myself. i’m aurelia.” 

“that’s not her name,” sounds a dismembered voice from behind _not_ -aurelia, and suddenly the girl who’s been in wanda’s head all day comes into sight. “it changes every week.”

she’s beautiful. even more so up close. she has the kind of beauty that you see on tv — the kind that stops people in the streets, and wanda suddenly feels all flustered and useless. 

“forgive my daughter’s manners, _natasha_ here has never understood the beauty of self expression,” aurelia says, moving past her daughter with a grace that makes her almost appear to be floating, “gonna put _this_ beauty in the kitchen…” she says, but wanda’s eyes are fixed on _natasha._

natasha. _nat_. pretty. pretty name for a pretty girl, she thinks, and then blushes to herself. 

“i understand self expression just fine,” she says, with a roll of her eyes as she looks away from her mother, finally settling her gaze on wanda. her expression shifts a little, into one of recognition, and it warms her eyes. “oh, hey you.”

“hey,” wanda murmurs, feeling incredibly shy all of a sudden, and offering a bashful smile. 

natasha hums, scanning wanda with soft eyes. “i’m natasha, as you heard, but you can call me nat if you like,” she says, and flashes a grin. “what’s your name, pretty girl?”

wanda’s cheeks burn a deep crimson before she can help herself, and it takes her a full five seconds to manage to choke out, “w-wanda. i’m wanda maximoff.”

“nice to meet you, wanda,” natasha says, and leans up against the doorway as that glorious _smirk_ spreads across her lips. “so, those your horses over there? i saw you out there watchin’ us last night,” she says, and the friendly tilt of her words soothes wanda out of panicking. 

“they’re bucky’s, he lives next door. i just like to sit with them sometimes,” she says, a little bashfully.

“that’s cute. i used to ride alot back in austin,” natasha says, and she walks out onto the porch then, pulling the door closed behind her. wanda bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check as natasha brushes past her, hand catching on wanda’s arm and sending a spark of electricity straight to her core. 

“you lived in texas?” wanda asks, after she’s regained her composure, surprised firstly because natasha’s accent doesn’t sound texan, and then because the girl is pulling what wanda _thinks_ is a hand-rolled cigarette but _could be_ a joint, from her pocket and lighting it in one swift movement. with her mom _right_ inside. 

natasha brings the tube up to her lips, and then smoke is pouring from her lips in a grey plume. she hums thoughtfully, gaze turning towards the street. “years ago. we’ve moved around a lot,” she says, and leans up against the railing of the porch. “do you smoke?”

wanda shakes her head, no. she had, once, with her brother, but it made her choke and feel dizzy. plus if erik smelt it on her, he would probably kill her. 

“didn’t think so,” natasha says, and wanda tries not to read too much into that, because it’s not maliciously said. she nods towards her front door then, proudly displaying the myriad of colours. “you like it?” 

“i-i do,” she says, after a little, watching as natasha taps the cigarette against the rail and flicks the ash to the ground. “you painted it yourself?”

“indeed.” natasha tips her head a little to admire her handiwork with a slow nod. “a statement, right?”

“definitely,” wanda says into a soft chuckle, finding her hand come up to play with her necklace a little consciously as she adds, “not one that this neighbourhood is used to.”

natasha arches an eyebrow at wanda then, studying her closely for a few moments before she smirks. “oh no? you don’t get a lot of progressives in a town like this then, huh?”

“nope,” wanda says, popping the ‘p’ and trying not to feel embarrassed at the way natasha is studying her so closely. “i like it a lot, though. the door..”

“mhm. me too,” natasha chuckles and takes a drag, expression relaxing a little. “do you go to the local highschool, wanda?”

“yeah,” wanda swallows and nods. there’s something so nice about hearing her name roll from natasha’s lips. something so _perfect_ about the way it sounds when natasha says it. “i’m a junior. we— _i_ just turned seventeen.” the plural that she still hasn’t gotten herself out of the habit of makes her eyes suddenly sting with unwanted tears which she immediately shuts down, forcing her tongue to the roof of her mouth and sucking in a quiet breath. 

natasha clicks her tongue and her smirk widens. “eighteen. should be a senior but i’m a year behind — aurelia tried to homeschool me for ten months when i was like, fourteen, and fucked it up completely.” 

a laugh rises in wanda’s throat, and she rolls the pendant of her necklace between her fingers. “maybe we’ll have classes together or something, then,” she says, “when do you start?”

“tomorrow,” natasha flashes that grin again, and wanda feels all swoony. “you wanna show me around?” 

“oh…” wanda starts, and then stops. she wants to tell natasha that it’s probably not a good idea - that she isn’t _cool_ , and it won’t be good for her image to hang out with wanda. in middle school, she’d had more than enough friends, even been popular at a stretch — and then _pietro_ and… well, no one knows how to talk to the girl with the dead brother. and natasha? she’s pretty sure that natasha would fit in seamlessly with the popular crowd. she has this _magnetic energy…_

“or, no pressure,” natasha says, raising an eyebrow then, and wanda is quick to suck in a breath and shake her head. 

“no, no it’s not that, just…” she bites her lip. “i’m not like, popular or anything. i have two friends.”

a burst of laughter escapes natasha’s lips suddenly, and wanda feels a momentary pang of hurt, until, “wanda i don’t give a fuck,” she says, amusement smoothing over her features. “ _i_ think you’re cool.”

wanda’s heart beats a little faster in her chest and she finds herself catching her lip between her teeth with wide eyes. “you do?” she asks, before she can bite the question back. 

“oh yeah. totally hot, too,” natasha says, and then drops her cigarette to the decking and stomps it out as though what she just said was nothing, and wanda isn’t having an internal freak-out at the fact that the prettiest girl she has ever met just called her _hot._

“you… you are too,” she manages to squeak out, then, blinking her eyes wide. 

natasha grins, staring at wanda with those fierce green eyes _shining_. “i know i am, baby,” she says, voice lilting in a way that immediately makes wanda’s stomach feel hot and tight. “plus, i wanna meet your two friends.” 

wanda swallows harshly. she wants to say something, but she can’t. 

“so? you’ll be my tour guide, right? point out the people to steer clear of, and the ones to suck up to.”

wanda’s entire chest feels tight and warm, stomach feeling like it’s in a blender as she stares at natasha. it takes a whole ten seconds for her to summon up a response, and even then natasha’s smile hasn’t faded. 

“yeah. yes, i’ll be your tour guide.” 

***

wanda and bucky have been sitting at the bus stop already for five minutes when natasha comes along. 

they’re perched up on the fence of the horses’ paddock, wanda scribbling in her notebook and bucky texting steve ( _you’re literally going to see him in four minutes, buck_ , she’d told him with an eye roll). wanda hears natasha’s footsteps in the grass before she sees her, and her head snaps up, unable to help the smile that immediately tugs at her features. 

“look at you. you’re fucking smitten,” bucky whispers. 

she barely has time to nudge him hard to shut up, before natasha within earshot and grinning as she says. “mornin’ wanda.”

she’s wearing a pair of wide-leg jeans and a white tank top along with a red checked flannel. the jeans finish an inch below the top begins, and there’s a thin slither of her abdomen visible that makes wanda’s throat run dry. her hair is down this time, the front two pieces pulled back, braided and fastened with a blue clip that matches her eyeshadow. that same “love not war” bag is slung over her shoulder, and this time wanda’s close enough to notice a bunch of pins stuck in the canvas straps. 

her own yellow sundress suddenly feels very inadequate. 

natasha’s smirking knowingly when wanda meets her eye again (that _smirk_ is going to be the death of her) and doesn’t attempt to hide her own head-to-toe of wanda, eyes flashing with something that wanda can’t quite identify, yet it makes her stomach clench anyway. 

natasha switches her gaze to bucky after what feels like an hour long exchange of non-verbal communication, and she hums. “ah. you must be one of wanda’s infamous two friends.”

bucky snorts, tucking his phone away as the bus rounds the corner further down the street. “i am. bucky barnes. my mom was glad you guys liked the pie.”

“it was from _your_ mom?” natasha asks, curiously. 

“oh. yeah,” bucky smiles and his eyes flicker in wanda’s direction. “my mom prefers wanda to both her own kids so,” he says, by means of explanation, and wanda glares playfully at him because that’s definitely not true. winnifred barnes would do anything for her children. 

“mine does too, after that pie.”

the bus pulls up, and once they get on, one of the jocks at the front makes a loud catcall that makes wanda feel embarrassed even though she knows it’s not directed at her. she can’t stand being a focus point of attention, and right now everyone is looking at natasha and by association, _her_ too. 

bucky takes her hand and leads her on, down the bus. 

a glance over her shoulder once she’s safely in their back-of-the-bus territory sees natasha looking wholly unbothered by the attention. she keeps walking and doesn’t glance twice at anyone, coming to a stop at wanda’s side, body pressing lightly against her in the narrow aisle. she lightly rests a hand against wanda’s waist as she fixes steve with a smile. 

“friend number two. that makes you steve, right?”

wanda ignores the tight burn that immediately travels to the pit of her stomach, fighting to control her furious blush because bucky’s knowingly smirking at her like crazy. 

and in that moment, with natasha pressed against her side, grinning at wanda’s best friends… well. wanda feels pretty fucking invincible. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed it!!! feel free to leave comments or kudos. like every writer, i love them.
> 
> next chapter coming... asap :)


End file.
